The Path to Regret
by Frostedwings
Summary: For him, it's inescapable.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form, own Code Geass~

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The Path to Regret

Prologue

Her words taste like chunks of wood. Flavorless and impossible to chew. They bruise the roof of his mouth, burn if he swallows. So instead of cooking up a real reply—he just spits them back out.

There's no doubt in his mind that she's using him. She said so herself, in that cold yet callous way she has of using words. She has a wish, a goal. That's all that matters.

Sometimes hewishes she wouldn't talk like that. He wishes her words were more like warm water and less like wood. But there are only so many dreams that can be fulfilled in the span of one life, and he doubts he'll ever have the time or the patience to pursue _her_.

Still, every once in a while she makes him regret. Makes him reach for her even though he knows he can't hold on for long. One of them will disappear eventually. Sooner or later, one of them will turn to dust.


	2. Chapter 1

The Path to Regret

He likes to think he could have handled it: being king of the world. He's done it all, conquered everything, and the power at his feet is nothing short of a tyrant's dream.

So then why? He asks himself. Why the bitter taste in his mouth? Why this continuing regret?

She's right beside him, but he doesn't realize he's voicing his anxiety out loud.

Abruptly, C.C. replies: "You could have stayed with her."

The remark shakes him.

"What?"

The witch keeps her eyes trained on the wall.

"Nunnally. You could have had a life with her."

At this his face contorts at first, but then he relaxes, the faintest of smiles grazing his lips.

"Yet I chose the path of blood."

Silence.

He eyes her, sensing the implication.

"_I _chose it. Not you, C.C."

"I know," she says dully. And the air becomes heavy again.

They're sitting about two feet apart, legs angled over the edge of his bed. It's a wide room, vast and elaborate with windows the size of Rakshata's Glasglow. Nevertheless, the curtains are shut. The floor is empty.

It's big and it's black and the only light he can find seems to be coming from the whites of her eyes.

Absentmindedly, the boy finds himself playing with a bundle of her hair. He's not sure what he means by it at first, until he reaches up and his knuckle brushes the pale skin of her neck.

For once she seems intrigued, and despite his awful mood, he smiles and continues his attentions.

His body twists oddly, upper torso straining as he makes an attempt to breach the gap between them. Sadly, it's too much of a stretch. It hurts, and he retreats before the embrace is completed.

Green locks slip over his fingertips, leaving his palm bare.

Softly, the boy chuckles and bows his head.

"I could have been _king_."

_I could have had you. _

Her gold eyes flicker. Lips part, but she doesn't breathe a word.

Suddenly he feels the mattress shift. The witch moves towards him and kneels at his side—

Hovering.

Long waves of hair slide over her shoulders, pelting him like rain.

She grips his head in her hands.

Steady.

"Lelouch."

He blinks.

It's not endearing but imperative, almost like a verbal slap on the wrist.

His eyes narrow as she smirks, drawing him back to their old ways.

"What?" the emperor snaps, feigning annoyance.

"Suzaku…"

"Yes?"

She toys with his bangs.

"He calls me your shield."

Her right hand falls to his chest, pressing up against his heart.

"But I can't protect you from this."

For nearly a minute he doesn't breathe. His eyes fly about, unsure where to land. Finally instead of meeting hers, they fixate on the sheets.

She laughs, twisting the fabric of his shirt in her fist.

"You're not afraid of death, Lelouch. So what is it really? What is it you regret?"

He looks up ready to retort on some childish impulse, but the proximity of her face deters him.

_When did she…? _

"You _witch_," he hisses, though his eyes glow in a way that contradicts his tone. And then softly- almost gently- he whispers, "Enough. You know my answer."

"Well then…"

She lowers her head.

He breathes in harshly, feeling the full effect of the draw she holds for him.

Finally, he gives in. Gives up.

He catches her lips, and they blend.

King and Queen—

Chasing dreams in darkness.

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A/N: This is something I've been working on, on and off, for a little while now. Personally I was one of those people who hit the end of the last episode and thought: He's dead. There was no doubt in my mind, and I thought the theories about the coach driver and immortality were just absurd. To some extent, I still feel that way, but now I think it's really something to decide on an individual basis. Whether he's alive or not- whether he was really in love with C.C. or not- you can shape the situation however you want it through new stories. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my version of it. Reviews are always welcome~ :)


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